


for what thine own hand cannot reach

by Yulicia



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Edging, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Handjobs (also with feelings), M/M, Porn with Feelings, guided masturbation, writes all if these tags down like a blushing victorian maiden...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26561080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulicia/pseuds/Yulicia
Summary: “Art thou truly content to follow mine orders?”“There is nothing I want more,” Thancred breathes.
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters
Comments: 5
Kudos: 125





	for what thine own hand cannot reach

It was most gracious of their crystalline host to offer the Scions a place to stay within during their (often brief, these days) stay in the Crystarium. Though, it does stand to reason that that is the least he could have done in return for giving Lakeland back the night. Many of his companions forwent the hospitality, but Urianger found it a perfect respite to study this world within. 

The grand window made the night’s stars easy to see, glittering once more against a blessed backdrop of black. With the night of this world so fleeting Urianger was to take all of the time he could find to observe the sky’s currents, and to seek and record it’s fortunistic secrets. It took his mind off of his own burdensome ones, at least for a moment. 

As he sits against the window sill he hears the sounds of the world; the tweeting of birds and buzzing of bees. Then there is a knock on the door and Urianger doesn’t need to open it to know it is Thancred on the other side. He has been paying far too much attention to him lately, etching even the most minute details of his person into his mind - including the trepidation present in his knocks. It was three, always three, short and quick, but the last one was always quieter, as though he had lost his confidence just before the last beat. It’s barely there, but Urianger has noticed. He noticed a lot of things. 

“Pray enter,” he calls, but he knows he doesn’t have to. It’s a formality at this point, for Thancred would have opened that door with his blessing or without - not that he would have ever denied Thancred his company, nor denied himself the luxury of his. 

The door closes behind him with a slight click, the bolt returning to its place. He wonders if Thancred ever notices these doors are purposely never locked, or if he assumes that they are that way accidentally. He doubts Thancred is that observant, somehow, and almost relies upon it. T’would be shameful to admit he expects his company - prays for it, even. 

The first thing he notices is the new smell of ash in the air, the lingering smell of aetheric gunpowder. The metallic tang clung to Thancred as though it were a sticky powder and not merely a scent, and Urianger was growing quite used to it. It wasn’t unpleasant by any means. 

The second thing he notices is the undercurrent of alcohol beyond that familiar scent. It’s not strong, but it is overwhelmingly present. 

Urianger has quite the idea of where he has been.

“Need I list thine sordid collection of drunken affairs once more?” 

He hears Thancred laugh. “I swear you know that list more intimately than I do.” He hears Thancred lean against the wall, the metal of his attire clattering against the stone. “But no, that is not necessary. Strictly water for me these days, promise.” 

Urianger quirks a brow, but keeps his eyes to the window. The pen in his hand taps against the notepad in his lap. “Is that why thee reeks of drink?”

The metal of Thancred’s coat rattles as he shifts. “That would be the whiskey on my shirt. The dear barmaid tripped, and most of what she carried ended up unfortunately in my lap.” He hears Thancred pause. “... I  _ do  _ stink.”

There is the rustling of fabric from behind him. In the sky Urianger catches a glimpse of a twinkle in what those from the Source would have called the Balance, and chases it with his eyes. Fire of the heavens, the Warden’s call. Most peculiar to see such a constellation active in the calm of this particular night.

“Do you mind if I leave this here?” Thancred asks.

Urianger doesn’t turn to see what he is asking, and only assumes he does not mind before giving his answer. He rarely minds what Thancred does. “T’wouldn’t be a bother, nay.” 

He returns to the stars, watching that same spark twirl amongst the Balance once more. On second thought perhaps the idea of divine punishment was not so farfetched for a would beset by those bathed in most heavenly light. 

Suddenly, he feels a hand upon his shoulder, fingers tracing along where cloth met skin. He flinches minutely, but his breath remains steady. 

“If I’d known I was going to be ignored I would have stayed downstairs.” Thancred’s voice is low, quiet, barely more than a whisper. It sends a shiver down Urianger’s spine. He feels Thancred’s fingers wind around the gold chains that run along his back - not tugging, simply idly playing. 

“Mine apologies,” he replies. “It is simply rare indeed to be granted even the most minute of chances to look upon these constellations so.” 

He believes he knows this dance (for he had seen it’s steps performed upon innerable partners before), and he suspects he knows what it is upon Thancred’s mind. He has simply not yet chosen his decision on whether to indulge him. 

“I was once the fairest bard in Thanalan and now here I am, playing second rate to a bunch of stars,” Thancred jokes. “How the mighty have fallen.” 

“As I have played second to many a glittering beauty, so shall thee.” 

He hears Thancred puff a laugh, feels his breath against his neck. “Is that jealousy I hear?” 

Urianger swallows. He hadn’t intended it to be, but perhaps a hint slipped through. “Nay, not at all. It is merely mine own observation of fact.”

There is a pause, one that grows quite lengthy. The Balance calls to him once more, but the press of fingers against his neck leaves the stars out of his mind for the moment. 

“You can have me, you know,” Thancred says. “All of me, should you want it.” 

For not the first time Urianger’s thoughts were beginning to look startlingly white. “Thou doth not know what thou asks for.” 

“I do,” Thancred says. “Twelve, I do.” 

Urianger feels himself grow warm. Finally, he turns to look upon his guest, and, now at eye level, finds himself being gazed upon with a deep and endless  _ want.  _ He can’t remember the last time he saw that. Unless… he can. He doesn’t want to remember. 

His fingers flex. He wants to reach out and touch, but finds himself halted. Their work was dangerous, especially now. He grows fearful of allowing himself to fall so completely when the cost was so high. 

And yet he already had, hadn’t he? This is not the first time they have spoken like this, the first time they have flirted around this thing of theirs. This is only the closest they have ever come to the precipice and the ocean of those brown eyes give him endless pause, no matter how deeply he would wish to swim within their waters. 

He must take too long to respond, frozen still as he is, and he hears Thancred scoff. “If you will not have me, then I will just have to attend to it myself.”

Urianger’s mind grows quickly foggy with the image of Thancred with his hands upon himself, how he would know himself, of all people, the most intimately, the breathy moans in an attempt to keep quiet... Urianger’s name upon his lips… the image only lasts for a flash of a second but—-

“It seems the idea of that is most appealing,” Thancred says, and he sounds ever so smug. Urianger swears he can  _ hear  _ him smiling. 

His ears must be bright red with the heat he feels upon them. He distantly misses his cowl and his goggles, those blessed artifacts that once would have hid his growing shame. 

“Though it would be quite boring to waste all the fun on myself, I’ll admit. It would be far more entertaining were there to be an audience.” Thancred draws closer, murmuring his next words. “Or perhaps an attentive participant.”

Urianger’s heart is thundering in his chest. All at once he realises that this may be his best chance to have Thancred without touching him, to hold him with words rather than hands. Should the worst come to pass and Thancred was to slip beyond his grasp, or were he to truly perish some day, it would be easier to forget a pleasant sight than to try to erase the memory of a soft and gentle touch. Yes, this would be for the best, and he would be lying if the thought of creating this memory didn’t make his stomach flop. 

“Thy wish is as thee commands,” Urianger says, slightly breathless. 

“Oh, thank the Twelve,” Thancred mutters. He can feel Thancred pressed against his leg, and can feel his arousal most plainly. “What shall I do?”

“Beg thee pardon?” He rather thought this part would be obvious… 

“Tell me what to do,” Thancred says, “Guide me.” 

He realises he is being pulled into something of a game. It seems Thancred was not to let him get away with simply observing this time, no matter how much he wished it so. 

“I believe thee know thine first step.” 

His words find their mark and he hears the sound of Thancred’s belt being undone. 

“And what shall I do next?” Thancred asks. 

Urianger paused. He frowns, wondering if this is to be a horrible jest. “Art thou truly content to follow mine orders?” 

“There is nothing I want more,” Thancred breathes, and he seems genuine. “So, speak. What next?” 

Urianger bites back a comment about Thancred’s usual lamentation of how much he talked. 

“Take thyself in hand,” Urianger says, and he feels himself nearly stumble. His words were not meant for this, he realises… 

Thancred doesn’t seem to notice, and obeys contentedly. The light flush across his cheeks betray his excitement, and he sees the tension in his hand as he waits patiently for a command. He realises were he to stop, Thancred would concede to his whim. It was remarkable how much power Thancred allowed him to hold over him. It sends a thrill through him. 

He most certainly does not want to stop, however, and instead speaks thus, “Move, but ever slowly. Touch thyself as another would, delicate and ever patient. Think thee not of thine own hand, but of anothers. Take care, I want thee to last.”

He sees Thancred’s eyes widen a fraction. “Keep that up and I’m not sure I will.”

“Then that is thy issue, rather than mine.” 

He watches Thancred’s hand move, slowly, just as he instructed. He sees the pretty pink flush across his cheeks, the redness that runs all the way down to his cock, held solidly in his own hand, yet commanded completely by another. 

He hears Thancred’s breath hitch ever so slightly, and drinks in the sound. He will not touch, but the memory of sound would more than suffice. 

“Thee may move faster, just so,” Urianger says. He realises he enjoys this, this strange authority he has over Thancred. He knows it is but a clever farse, but it was a thrilling one nevertheless.

Thancred obeys, and Urianger watches. 

The first moans slip from Thancred’s lips, a shiver moving through him. It is a dazzling chorus amongst the otherwise quiet room, and Urianger realises why the man had once been drawn to song. If this is the tone that he sang, then it stands to reason that he would, of course, be irresistible. 

“Urianger,” he breathes. “You have no idea how much I wish this hand were yours.” 

Urianger is more than aware. Mayhaps someday it will be, but not now. 

“Please, keep talking,” Thancred pleads. “Keep going.” 

He finds he rather likes the sound of his voice, of the breathy whine that creeps into it as he begs. Coupled with the flush visible in the pale moonlight from the blessed sky above, he looked positively radiant. 

“Thee must be unawares of how thine glistens,” Urianger muses. “How thy beauty is enrapturing.”

“ _ Oh,”  _ Thancred huffs. “And I hope it has caught the eye of a certain someone?”

“Mayhaps,” he answers, softening the truth of  _ a thousand times yes, for as long as the stars in the sky glitter I would want thee, and thee, and only thee, forever and ever for as long as thy would have me.  _

He was never one for the truth. Not without a struggle, anyway. 

He watches Thancred come undone before him, watches those pink lips part in pleasure, watches his eyes grow cloudy with lust, a desire that he brought upon his man; one he can hardly believe to be true. 

“Cease,” Urianger commands. “I believe I instructed that thy were to last.”

He hears a whine and realises that it was drawn from Thancred’s own throat, a keen as he ceased his ministrations completely. 

“How doust thou feel?” 

Thancred laughs, the sound a little hysterical. He runs a hand through his hair, causing it to spike in all number of directions. Though Thancred had a certain roughened charm to him Urianger realises he has never seen him look quite so… undone. 

“Better than I have in years, and a dozen times more desperate.” Thancred pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Twelve, I want to kiss you.” 

Urianger considers it a moment. It was becoming harder and harder to resist the itch along his own skin, his own desire burning in his heart. He wondered if, mayhaps, it would not be so bad to allow this brief touch, just the smallest of forgettable gestures. 

He nods. “Thee may do as thy desires.” 

He realises his error the moment Thancred’s lips are upon his, and knows he could never undo what he has just done. Truthfully, he isn’t sure he wants to. He weighs the cost of imagined grief with the ecstasy of given pleasure and finds the latter win out. He buries his fingers into Thancred’s shirt, feeling the warmth of him radiating through it. He can smell the gunpowder plainly upon his skin, and the hint of that selfsafe whiskey from earlier. He momentarily forgets where one of them begins and the other ends. He feels as desperate as he imagines Thancred does, and he has not had to tend to himself at all.

He realises all at once that he wants more, but quickly tempers that thought. 

“Nay,” he says to himself quickly, his voice barely a whisper. With Thancred so close there is no way he doesn’t hear him. 

“Hm?” Thancred hums against his lips. 

“Naught to concern thyself with,” Urianger replies. “T’was simply a thought.”

Thancred pulls back. There is a frown on his face and he seems almost upset. “That bodes ill. I rarely enjoy your secrets.”

Urianger feels a pit grow in his stomach. “Then this I shall not keep from thee; t’was but the thought that I could grow easily lost in this, forget mineself in thy essence.”

Thancred’s frown does not temper. “And you don’t want to?” 

Urianger shakes his head. “It is not that I do not wish to, only that I am wary of the consequences; of the gale force that is this untempered desire, of how far one may falleth.” 

Relief fills Thancred’s face. “Gods, Urianger, if you want to fuck me just say so.” 

Uriangers face once more blooms red. He had not expected Thancred to speak so plainly. “Mayhaps another time. For now though, would thy be content to remain as thus? For thine desire to be complete upon mine own lips?”

“Whatever you ask for will be yours,” Thancred promises. The force in the words have Urianger believe that in this case he may be speaking to futures beyond the bubbled quiet of this room. 

Thancred surges forwards to capture his lips once more, and he feels his eyes slip shut. He heard Thancred return to his task, and in the quiet sound of slick he finds that he does not mind this sound, and finds instead that he enjoys it. Yet he was not to sully the moment with thoughts of his own release, and was content to bring Thancred only to his end. 

“Please,” Thancred whispers against his lips. “If you are willing, then touch me. Make those fantasies of another’s hand true. I want it to be yours, have me as you like.” 

And with a plea like that how was he to say no? He was not one to leave a companion in needs of succor without aid. 

With his foot already descended into this pond and with no hope of return, he reaches out to grasp Thancred in hand. He feels his cock twitch against his palm, and, even further, he hears the keen that rises from Thancred’s throat, caught and muffled against his own lips. 

Urianger strokes, matching the pace that Thancred had set for himself - ever the steady observer. This, clearly, seems to drive Thancred wild, as his keening grows louder, and increasingly more frequent. 

“You were watching,” he breathes between a moan. 

“Of course I was,” Urianger speaks, “Was it not thee who allowed mine own eyes the pleasure to do so?” 

Thancred shudders. “I believe it was— _ oh, _ ” he groans. He dips his head forward, his hair falling into his eyes. He fists a hand into the front of Urianger’s robes, his knuckles quickly turning white. “Yes, keep going. Please, keep going.”

There is a tension in Thancred’s shoulders that tells him he is dangerously close, and so he stops, gently squeezing, but otherwise pausing his ministrations. 

He swears he hears Thancred growl. 

Thancred’s voice is choked as he speaks; “Why did you stop?”

Urianger smiles, feeling quite satisfied in the reaction he caused. “Simply to see if I could.”

Thancred grins though reddened lips. “You are enjoying this.”

He most certainly was. The control he had, the power to drive Thancred - one so unflappable he was oft the one to woo, rather than he chased in return - completely and utterly wild with only his hands and his voice was thrilling, and it was with great care he felt himself sinking more content into this being a turning point. He doubted they would be able to return to cheeky, unattached flirting after this - and Urianger found he didn’t particularly care. 

“I believe mine enjoyment rather pales in comparison to thine.”

“You’re probably right,” Thancred concedes. He watches Thancred’s chest heave with heavy breaths and  _ knows  _ that he is right. 

With the concession Urianger deigns to move once again, starting slowly before quickly picking up to a steady pace, one that draws a plethora of those wonderfully cute little moans from Thancred. Thancred surges forward to capture Urianger’s lips once more, and then he is coming, muffling and stifling whining moans against his mouth as he spills upon his hand. 

Urianger can feel his warm -  _ hot  _ \- breath against his skin, and zeroes in on the feeling of heat, and on the wetness of his hand. He finds them to be forever etched upon his mind, and knows they were never to be forgotten. 

Thancred paws at his robes, but Urianger shakes his head. 

“Thee need not concern thyself with mine own release.”

And of this he spoke true. He had little concern for the knot in his own stomach, and would instead be content to sit in the afterglow of this, and to chase memories instead of realities. 

Thancred frowns. “And if I would like to concern myself with it?”

Urianger almost laughs. That was the answer he was expecting. He should have known Thancred to be a thoughtful bed partner, ‘lest there would be no way he could have found himself within the sheets of so many. 

“Then I shall save mine time for thee at a later moment.”

Thancred grins, one who’s cheeky pull was stifled by being interrupted by a yawn. “Then it’s a date,” Thancred said. 

That it most certainly would be. 

**Author's Note:**

> i’m friends with a bunch of enablers...


End file.
